The Key Of S
by tinge38
Summary: AU story where Hermione is a private researcher and has agreed to investigate a murder of a squib for Remus Lupin with the help of Sirus Black. HG/SB In case you missed it, very AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Or Britain's Next Top Model. Or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

This takes place 5 years after the fall of Voldemort. It is not DH, HBP, OPh compliant in that I play fast and loose with which characters are alive. For that case, and other instances, this piece may even be considered Alternate Reality. For major characters, Remus and Tonks are alive, as is Sirius Black. I do bring up how Sirius is here, but a bit later on. I do not have a beta so all mistakes are homemade from scratch. This story is HG/SB.

**The Key of S**

Chapter 1: The disadvantages of dinning out.

I hate Ginny Potter.

I do not hate Ginny Potter for the usual reasons that green-eyed witches glare hexes her way.

I do not hate her because she hit the wizard marriage lottery when she snagged Harry. After being his best friend for many years, that only garners my sympathy.

I do not hate her because she is a wildly successful professional. I am more than comfortable in my profession.

I do not even hate her for her lush red hair and stunning looks. While I am not a contender for Britain's Next Top Model™, I am finally comfortable with my curly brown mane, plain brown eyes, and slightly top-heavy shape. Really. Usually.

No. I hate Ginny Potter for her ability to talk me into doing things I do not _particularly_ desire to do. Take now, for instance. I am sitting at a banquet table for what is the third hour for the Ministry's 5th year anniversary commemoration of the defeat of Voldemort. I have sat through rambling speeches on everything from education to street cleaning, only to be prodded to smile on command.

I would not be suffering the constant flash of cameras or the dismal dinner offerings of overcooked chicken and undercooked potatoes if Ginny had not relentlessly badgered me about showing up. I had managed to ignore her little army of owls pecking away at my window. I had even managed to duck the pointed questions from mutual friends. Then, she started playing dirty.

_*3 weeks ago*_

"_Do it for Harry's sake. He needs you there. Ron will be out of the country at some sort of conference. He needs to know that someone else will be there for him to talk with." She raises her eyebrows in the beseeching manner that always turned Arthur to mush._

"_Harry understands why I do not want to go. If he really wanted me to, then he would ask." I counter as I glare at the limp salad currently taking up residence on my plate. I know it is pointless to glare; it is not the salad's fault that I really want pasta in some sort of lovely cream sauce. Lunch at Louis' generally puts me in a good mood. The quaint little restaurant had a 1950s theme played out in cheerful black and white checked floors and over-stuffed red vinyl booth seats. However, my trousers are telling me things about my current diet that made salad the prudent choice. Hex it._

"_No he wouldn't. He's Harry. You have to come." Her manicured fingers punctuate her words as she waits for my guilt to creep in. Well, it is not coming. Never. Not. At. All. _

_Damn it. _

_I huff and arrange my limp lettuce into piles according to size. "I do not like that particular kind of attention." I rally one last time and try to ignore the unsettling feeling in my stomach. My body may have caught on to my impending defeat, but my mind sallies forth in hopeful denial._

"_You get attention all the time." Ginny interrupts with an irritated sigh. "Since you and Luna started your business, everyone seems to be trying to get 5 minutes of your time." Her simile is a mixture of confusion and pride. I cannot say I blame her on that account. Three years ago Luna and I opened Wayfarers, a small research/investigation agency. I handle most of the inquiries regarding objects, curses and the occult. Luna handles unique phenomena, rare creatures and unusual events, like crop circles. I still do not fully buy into her Gold-backed Slinkers mating frenzy theory for the circles, but her husband Rolf, a small fellow who reminds me of a besotted Ricky Ricardo (sans the accent), does. I guess that is how love works._

_Ginny's impatiently tapping salad fork alerts me that I am having a conversation with her and not a stare down with my salad. I pick up on clues like that; hence, the whole successful career in research and investigation. _

"_That's not what I mean. They are going to ask all of those old questions again. 'What happened between you and Ron? Where did you go for those two years?'" I wheeze in my best Skeeter impression._

_Ginny's smile widens and she leans across the table towards me. "What did happen between you and Ron? Where did you go for those two years?"_

_I pluck up my glass of water for a quick sip. "Nothing happened between Ron and me. That's why we are not together. And I went where I pleased for those 2 years." I idly wave to the waiter for our bills._

_Ginny laughs. "See, you already have the answers for the really hard questions. There is nothing keeping you from attending. Besides," she continues on between bites of her salad, "if you just told them where you went, they would leave you alone. It's the whole 'woman of mystery' persona that entices them." I snort here. She raises her eyebrows again. "Beside the point, I know. It would be good for your business. Harry really would appreciate it. Remus cannot come. Sirius __will__ not come. You would not leave Harry by himself. He's already looking forward to seeing you."_

_My mind accepts what my stomach had guessed earlier. I was going. Ginny learned to punch those guilt buttons from Molly. If I did not yield gracefully, she would probably hit me with an Imperio when my back was turned. I know Harry is having a hard time of it lately. We all do when the anniversary comes around. I have been working a great deal and not coming around to the Potter house as often as I should. My defeat must have registered on my face because she moved in for the coup de grace._

"_Besides, Violet could use the help. If we were both wearing her designs, think of what it would do for her business. She does have excellent taste, regardless of the fact she is dating my brother." Ginny gives me a sly smile that I can not help returning. "Don't you want to help Violet?" She coos._

_Violet Merlot is a tiny whirl wind of short cropped blonde curly hair and curves who began her design career at Madam Malkin's shop. That is where she met Ron. I was worried that her artistic temperament would clash with Ron's general temper. So far they seem to be getting on well after one year. What I especially like about Violet is how easily she accepts the friendship and history between Ron, Harry and me. She does not ask embarrassing questions or make awkward implications about our relationship. It takes a rare person to accept the __amorphous__ bond between the three of us. Closer than family and yet not lovers is not a demographic you find on questionnaires. So far, she has handled us all very well._

_Violet is muggle-born as well. I think that is why I like her designs. She does standard muggle fair like formals, suits and such. Her wizarding work tries to fuse the muggle and wizard fashions together. While not always successful, her results are interesting. I employ my "put-upon" groan to signal my defeat. "If it will help…"_

_Ginny smiles her triumph._

*Present*

That is why I hate Ginny Potter.

Not that Violet is currently in my good graces either. The "gown" she sent me (a scant hour before the ordeal was to start) is more like a skein of silk with aspirations. The café-au-lait colored top is a low but sculpted bustier, with gauzy lacing up the front. It has a corset effect. One deep breath and the girls will make an appearance. It flows into a tight floor length pencil skirt of the same color, which would be a more traditional witch fashion, if it were not for the slit up the back that is so high, I fear my knickers are going to be featured on the evening news. We all know where that leads. To finish it off, my feet were seizing up in the four inch heels I needed to toddle around on to keep the hem from dragging the floor.

In a valiant effort to keep everyone's attention off my assets and on my face, I am wearing diamond and pearl cluster earrings and the matching necklace that Harry had given me when I had announced the opening of Wayfarers. However, I suspect my attempt has failed.

The stately old wizard across from me, a retired Muggle Studies professor whose name I cannot recall, has his eyes glued to my chest in the avid hope I would have a hay fever attack. Or at the very least an agreeable sneeze. I doubt the old goat has even realized that I have a head.

I was lured here under totally false pretenses, as supporting Harry has consisted of sending him the occasional smile. Kingsley seated him at the table across the room from me. He and Gin are sandwiched between Ministry dignitaries. I grace the table with older academics.

A polite smattering of applause tells me that I have pouted my way through the next to the last speaker regarding the debt the wizard world owes to all who opposed Voldemort. I quickly join in with the rest of the golf-clapping crowd and plaster on my patented "I'm listening" smile, which I usually reserve for rambling clients.

The Most Honorable High Wizard Augustus Trinkle is doddering towards the podium when a discrete server taps my shoulder. "Pardon me, Ms. Granger. An urgent owl has arrived for you." I smile and thank him as I palm the small roll of parchment. It has Remus Lupin's private seal. I use my thumb nail to slide it open.

**Dear Hermione,**

**24 West King's Way.**

**Urgent business of the highest order.**

**RL**

Frying pan or fire? Which is more fun? As much as I want to leave the abysmally boring dinner, I had hoped it would be due to my aching feet rather than "business of the highest order," which is Remus' little code for Order business.

After the defeat, Remus stepped in to lead the Order. It is more of a monitoring body now. They track down Death Eater rumors and pursue potentially suspicious activities that could be related to the dark arts. He quickly formed an amicable partnership with Kingsley in this latter regard. Wayfarers had done the occasional odd job for them. I had opted out of the order before my brief two year hiatus after the war. I had not managed to wander back into its ranks again. I cannot say whether or not I miss it.

I murmur my goodbyes to my entranced dinning companion and take my cleavage to the nearest apparition point.

* * *

24 West King's Way is in one the border residences for the wizarding community, with access to the muggle world. Not unlike my own neighborhood.

Luckily for me, it is a short walk from the apparition point. The building itself is an older 3 story flat with a lovely brown stone exterior and charming architectural details above the windows and doors. The front steps boast actual wrought iron railings in a curving vine pattern meandering to the entrance. I must admit even in the wizarding world with its propensity for Victorian revival, you rarely see such attention to detail in the building arts. Those details tell me this structure is old, probably the residence for a more established wizarding family. While it is not common for older wizarding families to occupy border neighborhoods, it is not unheard of either.

As the damp night air is starting to chill me through my wrap, I clack up the stairs as fast as my heels will allow, and knock at the door.

Remus Lupin meets me. I know we have moved beyond the student/professor relationship, but he forever looks the role of the benign academic to me. His slightly rumpled blue robes match his rumpled graying hair. It looks as if he has been pushing his hands through it. "Hermione." His low greeting and slight smile do not match the furrows of concern on his forehead.

"Hello, Remus." I chirp as I scoot inside. I know there should be something more professionally reassuring I could say, but I have never been able to cipher out what it would be at these times. When in doubt, get to the point. "What can I do for you?"

Remus hesitates for a moment and mutters "lumos." A tasteful foyer is revealed. A Victorian-era hall tree of dark walnut stands ready to receive cloaks. Its lovely hue is off-set by oak flooring and a small oriental-style hallway runner. All of the pieces look authentic. There are walnut pocket doors on each side of the foyer and a staircase in the back that gracefully rises out of the light's range.

The most unusual aspect of the décor is the rather bland landscape painting by the entrance. It is an uninspired view of a moor, in muggle-style. The ornately carved framed gives the impression that, like the rest of the furnishings, this too is original to the era. But wizarding houses rarely, if ever, sport such pieces. They just could not get used to pictures that did not move or annoy in any manner.

It is then I notice Remus watching me take in the ambiance with a half smile on his face. I smile back. "It's a lovely home. Are we meeting with the owner?"

"Yes and no," Remus replies. "Two hours ago the owner's house elf, Nodkin, appeared at the residence of Jack Flourish, of Flourish and Blotts. This home is owned by Julius Flourish, Jack's great-uncle. Nodkin informed the household that Julius was ill and not responding. He said he had found his master on the floor when he returned from errands. Jack tried to enter the house, but found it to be warded against visitors and the floo disconnected. He called the Aurors. The responding officer removed the family from the area and informed Kingsley as to what he found. Kingsley called us."

"What did he find?" I know I am jumping ahead, but there is something about this I do not like.

"Julius Flourish was lying in the center of his den. He was dead. There are two rather long cuts from wrist to elbow on both of his arms." Remus' tone lowers. "At first glance, the officer suspected suicide, but then noticed that no blood was present. The officer called in Kingsley because it appears as if Julius died from blood loss. The responding officer also noted that there appears to be the residue of some magic in the office."

"Why is that strange? He was a wizard." I point out.

"He was a squib. The traces of magical force the Auror found were not house elf magic. That is why you are here. It looks as if someone cast a circle in the den. I was hoping you would look at what remains." Remus' gaze is beseeching and professional.

"I shall. Have you done any additional spellwork?" It will be easier to determine what happened if little additional magic had been done.

"Just to confirm the cause of death. We have kept the area as pristine as possible." He gestures to the set of door to my left. "The den is through there."

I move forward toward the doors. "One more thing," Remus hesitates for a moment. "We are doing this unofficially. We only have about 45 minutes at the most before Kingsley's people must come and secure the scene." He stops and looks into my eyes. "Julius is still in there."

I swallow. I hate dead bodies. I have had enough dead bodies for this life. I have dreamed of the dead for years. I never want to see another dead body again. Not even mine. "Thank you. I'll be fine." I peep. I am such a liar. Remus does not look convinced, but he nods.

I shrug off my modest black wrap. It is slightly damp from the evening air and I do not want any drips to disturb the crime scene. I see Remus raise one eyebrow. "Do. Not. Ask." He grins and takes my wrap as I push open the door.

The den, like the foyer, is decorated in Victorian fashion. The floor is a continuation of the oak from the foyer. The walls are dominated by large built-in bookcases, also of oak. They reach from the floor to the vaulted ceiling. Be still my heart. The shelves currently house volumes of impressive leather-bound texts.

There is a library desk at the far side. It is walnut and boasts an account's lamp, a leather blotter, professional magnifying glass and several piles of papers. There are no windows, but two more muggle style landscapes of the same bland school as the first hang on what little wall is exposed. There is a large wingback black leather chair behind the desk and a matching one to my immediate left.

A dead man is in the center of the floor.

He's hard to miss. Julius is an older balding gentleman. He looks like he is only an inch or so taller than me. He is--was pudgy with jowls and a comfortable level of padding that spoke of too little exercise. He is so pale. There are cuts on both of his arms, but no blood. I can see the incisions, but nothing to indicate bleeding. Even vampires leave some blood in the victim. I am glad his eyes are closed. I can pretend he is sleeping. I know I am staring. I cannot look away.

Remus clears his throat. I jerk my eyes back to him. "How do you know that the blood loss caused his death?" I croak. Very professional.

He shakes his head. "Jones, the responding officer, did a cause of death spell when he arrived on the scene. I also cast one and had similar results." He gestures to the floor. "You can see the remains of a circle and some other marks. It is best there by the desk."

I studiously take in the floor as I skirt Julius and move towards the desk. By the front of it you can still see the faint glow of a line. I follow it for a couple of steps before I see what could be markings. I kneel and draw my wand.

"Attollo nota." I gently move my want back and forth over the mark. I am trying to coax my energy into the magic marks so the edges will be more defined. It takes a great deal of focus. No more thinking of dead Julius a few meters behind me. No sir. Not thinking about him at all. My energy slides across the floor in a white haze. Nothing appears.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I slowly breathe out and focus on the floor. I wait a bit and recast the spell, focusing on one more promising area. I gingerly feed energy into the mark. Too much and I will eradicate it. Too little and I will not be able to make it out at all. This task difficult enough in itself without the threat of falling over due to numb feet. It is an odd little balancing act, but I feel my energy "catch" and start to steadily move into the marks. It is almost as if the marks are trying to drink from me. Normally the spell does not react this way, but it may be an effect from how recently the circle was cast.

My reward comes as the edges of a few faint marks become clearer. I can see this portion of the circle. Inside of it looks to be to distinct sets of runes, overwritten with other runes. From a quick glance I think I make out the Norse markers for journey and gift, but the overwriting is too distracting for me to be sure. My energy is still feeding into the runes and I am starting to get a bit light-headed. "Do you have a scroll?" I call. I briefly register hushed voices and footsteps behind me. I need to concentrate on the images or they will fade. A scroll floats over my shoulder.

Flick and swish. They are now transferred to the scroll. It takes a moment before I can stand. I shift and wonder if I am going to be able to stand up. How long had I been trying to raise these marks? I am saved from the potential embarrassment of falling face forward by an elegant hand that reaches down to capture mine. I look up into the face of Sirius Black.

He draws me up to my feet, which are now tingling from the happy return of my blood flow. That is something to tingle about. I mean that is what the tingling is about. If there is tingling. Blood flow would be the cause of it. Bugger.

Even in heels I come up to Sirius' shoulder. His dark black hair falls in waves to his shoulders. His eyes hold concern. His mouth forms a slight frown. He is wearing robes of a similar fashion to Remus'robes, only in a grey that matches his eyes. He extends his other hand to steady me. "Easy now," he rumbles in a low baritone.

I have always enjoyed Sirius' voice. It has a lazy quality that can make you shiver no matter what he is saying. I have not properly talked with him in over two years. Harry lets the odd detail drop every now and again. That is how I know he does work for the Order. His pictures and social schedule are well documented in the papers. His skin has a glow to it that I have not seen in a while. Admittedly, the last time I saw him, Remus had just brought him back from the other side of the Veil.

Wizards often underestimate Remus. They assume that being a werewolf keeps you from being a resourceful wizard. He had made contact with a witch in California who had similar success in bring someone back from the other side. A few email exchanges later, and Remus was throwing some serious magic around. No pun intended. It was a wonder he was not arrested.

Sirius tilts his head. "Kingsley's men cannot stall any longer. We need to go." He guides me to the door, keeping himself between Julius and me the entire time. His hands are warm. I only now register how cold and tired I am. I must have spent more energy than I had originally thought. I am taking small steps to keep my balance until my head clears. It feels as though I am still feeding energy to the marks, but I know broke the connection.

"Where to?" I murmur.

"12 Grimmauld Place." Answers Sirius.

"4 Bodkin Way." Answers Remus.

I am standing in the foyer with Sirius pushing me past Remus toward, what I assume, is a servants' exit. "Where?" I call.

"12 Grimmauld Place. I will apparate us, if you do not mind." Sirius is already herding me ahead of Remus. I hear Remus mutter something to Sirius and then call out "Fine. I have her wrap. I am right behind you."

Sirius pulls me close to his chest. He towers over me. He smells nice, like spices and the woods. How do men stay so warm? I lean my head on his chest as the world explodes in dark dots.

* * *

Attollo nota=Rough Latin meaning Raise Marks.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Alice in Wonderland. How depressing is that?

The Key of S

Chapter Two: The indulgence of drinks and interesting conversations.

_Julius Flourish offers me a cup of tea. His manners are impeccable but his conversational style is a bit convoluted. We are sitting in his den at his library table._

"_He knows about you now, my dear." He clucks his tongue. "There is no hiding. No running off for months on end for you." He sends me a censorious glare._

"_I was not hiding." I jauntily reply. "I was looking. And who knows about me? Or rather who in the wizard world doesn't know about me to some extent? Not to sound too conceited, but I was a part of the resistance." I take the tea and blow on it gently to cool it._

"_My visitor knows." He sighs and shakes his head. "The rabbit knows too. It is his party, after all."_

"_What are you talking about? What rabbit? Who is visiting?" I am annoyed now. I respect my elders, but he is pushing my patience. I have important business to attend to and his little party is holding up my schedule. I send him a scowl that would have won Snape's approval._

"_You need to find the visitor." He nods casually to his left. "The rabbit is over there."_

_I look over to see a white rabbit in a green vest with a golden pocket watch standing beside a blonde girl in a blue dress and white apron. She sends me a cross glare. The Rabbit looks up at me and says "You need to mind your time, dear. You did not start with much. You have even less now."_

"_She is making us late!" The girl sulks. "Why is she even here?" She crosses her arms and stamps her foot. "Off with you. This is my story. Go get your own." She turns to the rabbit. "Let us go. She has taken too much of our time with her thoughtlessness. We are rather late." They head for the door._

"_I am afraid they are correct, dear," says Julius. "You cannot stay here anymore."_

_I slowly rise towards the ceiling._

# # # #

I notice the warmth first. I feel the heat falling over me in waves. Then I hear the crackling noise of a fire. I am laying on a soft surface. My head is throbbing and I am slightly dizzy. I recognize the symptoms of exhausting my energy. But I didn't. I know I didn't.

"She's coming around." I hear Remus announce in relieved tones. I crack one eye to see him standing over me. "Hermione?"

I am on a sofa that has been transfigured to be a bit wider and longer than it was originally. I recognize this piece of furniture and the room. I am in Grimmauld Place's library. There is a fireplace across from me with a small fire in it.

Remus steps back from me as Sirius appears holding a crystal tumbler with some amber liquid in it. "This will help steady her." He moves to my side and kneels down to press the glass into my cold hands.

"I don't think she needs that kind of help." Remus mutters. "Do you have any Pepper Up?" Sirius rolls his eyes and ignores him.

Good Merlin. I _fainted_. I fainted in a Victorian era house, no less. How demoralizing and stereotypical. I fainted in Sirius Black's arms. Harry and Ron will never let me live it down.

"I'm fine. I'm just fine." I mutter and sit up. What a lovely, career destroying, evening. Sirius puts an arm around me and helps me stabilize a bit. I raise the glass and smell the rich scent of fire whiskey. Sirius watches me take a small sip and then moves away to sit in an adjacent chair. I smile as I notice that it is upholstered in an absurd yellow and purple plaid.

"Hermione, what happened?" queries Remus. The furrows of concern are back on his forehead. Maybe they never left.

"I am not sure. I felt the markings begin to pull at my energy. I knew that they would appear and I could capture them. However, it felt as if I could not break the connection, not even when I ended my spell." Thinking back, I realize that I had not really felt the energy transfer stop.

Remus wears a look of academic contemplation, as if I am describing a logic problem. "Do you think you inadvertently triggered whatever function the circle originally had?" From the way his eyes widen, I can tell this thought intrigues him.

"The spell is not designed to work that way," I begin in my best lecture tone. "It only washes a light coating of energy over the markers. It should not be enough to trigger something as complex and intense as a casting circle. Did the entire circle activate?" I look back and forth between Remus and Sirius.

"No," comes Sirius' reply. "The only section that responded was the one you were focusing upon." He looks to Remus. "Did you miss a ward Mooney?" His smirk is playful and not playful all at once. I wish I could do that.

Remus' straightens and glares. "No, I did not miss a ward. Anything that complicated and active would have shown up when we were trying to determine what magic had been worked. It would be a curious way to place a trap. There would be no guarantee that those runes would be examined, or still be present to be examined. They were designed to disburse after an amount of time. Wards are too permanent. They would remain even after the marks faded. They could have held clues as to who had created them and why."

I roll my head on my shoulders to loosen up the knots. "I have dealt with wards before. Remus is correct-"

"What about the caster," Sirius interrupts. "Could he or she have still been in the area?" His elegant eyebrows are pulled together in twin dashes of displeasure.

"Perhaps." I murmur. "I have never encountered that before. He or she would have to be close."

Remus and Sirius were staring at each other in a silent form of communication. Remus runs his hands through his hair. "It would mean that the perpetrator was there while I was examining the room." He tuts thoughtfully to himself.

"This is all very lovely speculation, but there could have been any number of reasons for why it happened. We can leave that to another time." I intone. "Now, I do believe someone should tell me why Julius Flourish is, or was, of interest to the Order." I place my feet firmly on the floor in front of me and try to regain some of my lost professional decorum.

Sirius' lips twitch as waves his wand. Two more tumblers of fire whiskey float towards us. He claims one as Remus reaches out to snag the other.

Sirius takes a sip. "A couple of months ago, Julius Flourish contacted me about a book in the Black family library. _The Duramerlin_ is a treatise on demons and demonology. Not something for the light hearted. Oddly enough, he did not seem to be interested in purchasing the text. He just wanted to be certain I had the text. I lied and told him no, that the book left the family collection when I was a child."

Remus takes up the tale. "Sirius has been making the social rounds and picking up bits of information for the Order here and there. I started looking into Julius' background and activities. I encouraged Sirius to _tactfully_ ask about Julius at some social gatherings to see what he could find." Remus scowls at Sirius' broad grin.

"Lighten up, old man. So I asked a question here and there."

"Everywhere, Sirius. You asked bloody everywhere. You all but took an advert out in the _Prophet_." Remus chides.

Sirius' shoulders lift in an elegant shrug as he lounges in his seat. How could someone slouch and still have such graceful lines? He looks to be very relaxed with this legs crossed at the ankles and glass raised half way to his mouth. His robes are gapping open a bit, giving a glimpse of a white shirt pulled tight over his chest. He is the picture of a carefree wizard. I flush a bit when I notice him grinning at me. He meets my eyes. "I get things done," he indolently drawls.

"What did you find out?" I am proud to say that sounds almost normal, not at all like I had been caught taking inventory of the magical world's most predominant playboy. Not me. All first crack investigators have that wonderful ability to not notice impossibly attractive men. I resolutely picture Harry and Ron frowning at me in disapproval.

Sirius sips his whiskey. "It seems Julius had been asking about a variety of texts from older families and collectors. He was not consistently looking for any one work. He never offered to purchase any of the works he asked about."

"Then why ask?" I mutter. "Were the works stolen after he inquired?" Maybe Julius had other ways of gaining what he wanted rather than using the family funds.

"We are not certain about all of them." Remus replies. "It seems as if he was trying to trace the works, as most of the families he corresponded with had either donated the books to museums, libraries, or other special collections. Some of those texts were turned over the authorities after Harry's victory in a display of propaganda and good will from the older wizard lines."

"What does that have to do with tonight and sending for me?" Not to be antisocial, I enjoy a good discussion as much as the next person, but my head is still aching. It is past the time to get to the point.

Sirius contemplates the tumbler he is lazily swirling in one hand. "Julius had recently contacted me again and asked to meet at one in the morning. I notified Mooney with his odd little request. We agreed that we should begin to monitor him. About that time, Kingsley owled Remus about what his Auror found."

Remus takes over again. It is a bit like a tennis match. I try to focus on the story over the buzzing in my ears. "When I entered the room, I noticed what was left of the circle. You have experience with identifying circles and runes. I thought you might be inclined to lend a helping hand to an old friend." He smiles at me. I feel myself smiling in return. It is nice to know I have not lost his confidence.

"I still do not like the bit with the runes, Moony." Sirius begins. "If someone was that close, then our Miss Granger's arrival would have been noticed."

"If someone was that close, then Remus' arrival and your arrival would have been noted as well, Mr. Black." I can be a snotty too.

"Remus, perhaps. But I strayed into the area." His smile has a superior edge to it. I have never been able access my Animagus form. All wizards have one. Mine keeps hiding from me. I narrow my eyes to show that I am not impressed.

Sirius grins.

"Wayfarers will be more than happy to take on the investigation. I will see what runes I am able to identify." The office has some ancient rune texts. Maybe I can ask Rolf if his family library has any older works.

"Wonderful. I will see what Kingsley's people have learned and get a copy of Julius' notes." Remus has a distracted look on his face as he finishes his drink and sets the empty tumbler on the mantle above the fireplace.

"I will put together a list of works that Julius was interested in and see what I can find out from certain book brokers I know." Sirius stands as well. "I will see Hermione home."

Remus has a startled expression on his face as if just now remembering my previously wobbly state. He turns red.

"That's fine," I hasten to try to make Remus feel better. "I feel fine." Just to be on the safe side, I will try to be the last to leave in case my feet are not ready for the rest of me.

Sirius is already in motion. "Nonsense. Never let it be said that Sirius Black refused to see a woman to her bed." He offers me his arm, which I ignore.

"To her door." Remus corrects sternly.

Sirius sends him an innocent smile and winks at me. "Of course." He reaches down and gently pulls me to my feet.

As I generally do not appreciate being hauled about, I should try to muster an insulted expression. But I am much too tired to care. My dignity will have to wait for another day. I can feel myself weaving a bit. No spots appear before my eyes, but I feel like I am stuffed full of wet cotton. Sirius Black could toss me over his shoulder right now and I would be happy just to be off my feet.

Sirius' sudden barking laughter lets me know that I have not lost my habit of talking to myself when I am tired. I can feel myself blush.

He leads me out of the library and toward the front door. He wraps an arm around my waist and disapparates before we reach it.

We regain our forms a block from my home. "How did you know where I live?" I stammer.

"Harry mentioned it a time or two." He shrugs. "I would have taken you inside, but your wards prevent it."

He keeps his arm about my waste as we walk to my little flat. "Harry set them up with me. Only he, Ron, Ginny and I can apparate in. We copied the wards from Grimmauld place." I know I am talking too much. But at this point in time, I think that may be all that is keeping me awake. We arrive at the front door.

I grab the door handle and whisper my password. This is a nifty little home security spell Harry found for me. Those Ministry toffs are handy to know.

Sirius eases his hold on me. "Do you need me to see you inside?" He is staring at me now, with his head slightly tilted to one side.

"No, I should be fine." I know I am staring at him. I am a bit shocked. It is sad to admit that I am taken off guard by his suggestion. Once you are involved in defeating a dark wizard, very few people offer to look after you. "Thank you."

Sirius smiles a small smile at me. "My pleasure," he murmurs as he takes my hand. I feel his warm breath on the inside of my wrist a moment before he gently places a lingering kiss on it.

In a blink he disappraites.

Oh my. Sirius Black.

# # #

I did not awaken until half past noon. Consequently, I did not make it into the office until close to two. Our offices are in a quaint little "revitalized" area down town. It is a two floor walk up. The public areas are on the first floor. The second floor is reserved for research and experiments.

The downstairs conference room is guarded by Eileen Birdie, our office manager. She is an older witch, who lost her husband and only daughter in the war. She is a statuesque six foot of gray-haired matron with the build of a plumb Valkyrie. Luna and I were lucky to find her. Her sense of organization keeps our wheels well-oiled. Since Luna's part of the business involves a great deal of traveling, keeping tabs on both of us can be challenging.

She also has a knack for intimidating undesirable visitors, such as reporters. In many ways, her no-nonsense attitude reminds me of McGonagall. We have established a friendship of sorts. She does not mind that I am here at all hours. I do not mind that she is not. In fact, I caught her leaving for her reading circle as I was coming. She just shook her head at my haphazard attire of a red blouse and navy trousers, informed me that I had a clear schedule for the rest of the week, handed me an impressive stack of messages and the day's newspaper. After reviewing the correspondence I turn my attention to the paper. The cover of the social section featured a picture of me entering the Ministry's celebration with the headline, "Granger Grows a Pair." The article is a salacious piece speculating on whether my choice of dress has anything to do with finding a husband/lover or a husband and a lover. I have been disappointingly single for some time. The disappointment is on their part; I feel fine about it. After burning the paper, I retreat to our growing little library upstairs.

The second level holds the two closets the Luna and I use as offices and the one large room, which houses our library. The shelves stand alone, and so far only line one wall. The wall facing the street boasts three tall windows decorated with salmon colored drapes. The floor has a sturdy brown berber carpeting. The center of the room has our one long, wooden table. Luna and I each have overstuffed chairs on each side. Mine is a straight-backed affair with arms that swoop and curve around to the front. It is a soft blue. Luna's is more of a fan-back model that has little enchanted sheep chasing stars across a never ending sky.

I start researching the runes. The small snippet appears to be multiple lines of runic text overwritten. I manage to conclude that my first guess at the Norse ones for gift and journey were correct. The others are not so easy to identify. That is a good thing and a bad thing. It is good, in that the more distinct the runes, the easier it will be to figure out the use and perhaps ascertain the user. The usage of Norse runes is very common in both wizard and muggle cultures, so there is nothing too terribly unique for me to follow there. It is a bad thing in that I am not going to be able to use my limited resources at the office to put it all together. I think I may be able to make out some Elder Futhark images in the patterns, but I cannot really be certain. If they are, then it would make my hunt a bit easier.

My head is starting to ache again and I notice that the sun is setting. I sit back in my chair and close my eyes. I picture myself relaxing in my tub, neck deep in bubbles. I can almost hear Mozart's _Magic Flute_ playing softly in the background as I sip a glass of chilled white wine. It sounds divine. I can smell my lavender bubbling bath salts, which were an "anniversary" gift from Luna. I smile when I think about our partnership now.

A few months after the nightmare that was the final battle, I received notice that my parents had been killed in a car crash. I had been hiding at the Burrow trying to piece together what was left of my world view and shaky moral compass.

I remember going through the motions as best I could. I arranged for their funeral, a small service as I am an only child, as were both my parents. What I do not remember were the cameras flashing. The next day the wizard papers all had headlines shouting my parents' deaths to the entire world. The pictures were an endless repetition of their coffins being lowered into the graves. I could not stop watching them descend over and over again.

I stared at the pictures until I could not catch my breath. I remember pulling a backpack from beneath the bed and shoving clothes in it. Later on I would realize that they were not even all mine. All I knew was that I wanted to leave. I left a note for Ron and Harry. Then I just walked away.

I kept walking. I walked until I could breathe again. I was sitting in a small café in Paris, when Luna sat down beside me and began talking as if we had just seen each other after class last week. For a moment it was as if I had never heard her speak before. Then she seemed to make perfect sense to me. I agreed to join her and her boyfriend, Rolf, on a search for the very elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack. From there our little partnership was born.

"If you are that tired, you still be in bed." the low baritone voice comes from behind me.

I shriek and come up with my wand out. At the business of the leg locker jinx I am uttering is Sirius Black. I glare at him while I consider how much satisfaction finishing the jinx would bring me. Cocky bastard. "Mr. Black" I hiss as I slowly low my wand. "How did you get inside my office?"

Sirius takes his time walking around the table and stretches out in Luna's chair. "If I told you all my secrets, what would happen to your search for knowledge?" He sends me a sexy smile I would appreciate more if I had not just lost 10 years of my life.

"Well, let's start with something simple." I return with mock sweetness as I lower myself into my chair. "What are you doing here and why?"

He takes a moment to brush imaginary lint from his black trousers that are tailored to fit distractingly well. I idly note that the jumper stretched across his shoulders is the same color as Harry's eyes. "I went to your flat to see how you were doing and to return your wrap." He produces his wand and my now-enlarged wrap is lying on the table between us. "When you did not respond, I thought you might be here. Have you found anything?"

I excavate my book on Norse runes and shove it towards him. "I have determined that the runes for gift and journey are present. The other runes are not as common. I am afraid I will have to access other resources to decipher them." Hah! I have accomplished a full vocabulary recovery. "I was going to send an owl to Hogwarts. They may have the texts I need."

"No need for all that trouble, love" Sirius smiles slowly. "If memory serves, my family has squirreled away more than its fair share of works on the subject. You can always come to Grimmauld Place." His smile is now more of a snotty little smirk. As if he thinks I will not do it.

"Wonderful. I would be more than happy to work there. When would be a good time for me to begin?" My smile is not exactly nice. It is more of a challenge. He started it!

"I was thinking after we break into and search Julius' flat."

Now I know I am staring. I think my mouth may have fallen open a bit too. "Excuse me?" Perhaps I misheard him. "Why would we need to break into his flat?"

"Simple, my dear Miss Granger." He leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "Kingsley's people are going to turn it over to the family in less than two days. Kingsley cannot grant us public access to it. That would leave a curious record. So, we will have to gain unofficial access to it." I can hear the glee in his voice.

"Wouldn't it be better if Kingsley lifted the wards and let us in?"

"Anytime the Ministry constructs or lowers wards, there is a note made in the Ministry offices." Sirius sounds slightly scolding. "We will have to sneak inside."

"You can slip past the ministry wards?" Why am I surprised?

Sirius looks insulted. "I escaped from Azkaban. You think one weak set of wards is going to send me to tears?"

"Is this something you and Remus do often?" Somehow I can see them doing it. It would like a guys' night out for them.

Sirius' smile is back. "I thought you might like to come along. I suggest wearing something in basic black. Do you have anything as fetching as the frock you wore last night?"

I let the frost creep back into my voice. "I think I can manage." This is not exactly how I pictured our next meeting unfolding. Come to think of it, I am not really sure how I expected it to go.

"Wonderful. Let's say you and I meet at the apparition point around midnight?" I can feel his anticipation from across the table. It is easy for me to see the shadow of the young marauder in him now.

"I'll be there. Have you had a chance to talk to you book broker?" I need to take control of this conversation. I do not know why, but something tells me it is important I try.

"Yes. I brought a copy of the list of texts Julius was attempting to trace for you." He gentle tosses me rolled piece of parchment. I pluck it up and unroll it.

It is not really what I expected. I mean, I am not naïve enough to expect to see "Evil Deeds: How to and Why," but the list is a like a patchwork compilation of works. While I do not know most of them, (yes, even a bookworm of my skill has limits), I do recognize some rather respectable history titles, some texts that clearly deal with demonology, a couple of philosophy treatises, what I assume to be journals or collections of correspondence of some rather old families. What jumps to my attention immediately is the listing of family names beside each work. It looks like a who is who of dark wizards. "Goyle, Malfoy, Lestrange, Faulkner" I murmur. "How did you get this information? I do not understand. Why would families who clearly are not supporters of your godson, talk so freely to you?" I do not mean to sound stupid, but I am drawing a big blank here.

Sirius looks. . .serious. "I did not make my grand return until after the dust had settled on the final battle. If you will kindly remember, it took even longer for them to pardon me." Bitterness is creeping into his voice. I had almost forgotten that he had gone straight from a hospital bed to a holding cell. "I rarely am seen with Harry, Remus or any of the other noted members of the Order. There has always been a glimmer of questionable alliances around me. In the end, I am a pure blood—just as they are. That, in its own way establishes a connection." He shrugs. "There is also a strange need for solidarity amongst the older families. A changing world is never and easy one to live in, especially when you are not making all the rules. I know that it will not last much longer, but why not use it while it does?"

"Does the change bother you?" I need to hear this answer from Sirius Black.

He stares at me for a few moments. "Not even Moony has ever asked me that." A small smile plays at his mouth. "While I can appreciate a certain amount of stability, change has never really bothered me. Especially those changes that Harry champions." It is the pride in his voice that puts me at ease. I look down at the list again.

I stare at the list in front of me. "Why these specific books and families? Why wouldn't Julius just find another copy of the works?" I am rubbing my throbbing temples now. Sirius stands up and moves behind my chair. I feel his hands come down and begin to gently massage my scalp. He is very good at it. The slow circles feel heavenly.

Then it comes to me. "It is not just the works. It is what ever specific owners did to modify the works." I slump back against the chair as the throbbing in my head begins to recede from his ministrations and a tingling sensation starts to creep down my spine. This man is dangerous. "Great. People are dying for notations."

Sirius stops rubbing my temples. "That's the spirit." He chuckles and leans over to whisper in my ear. "Midnight, my dear Miss Granger." With that, he is gone.

Why does he get to make all the dramatic exits? It is particularly unfair.

# # #

10


End file.
